Cycles of Life
by Goddess of Swords
Summary: Carmilla has nothing to do besides reminisce as she sits in her bonds. She finds some unnerving parallels between her present and times long past.


It had been a hundred and forty two years. Almost a century and a half since she had met Elle, since she had lost her, and still it hurt. Sometimes Carmilla was sure that she hadn't escaped that coffin at all, that her mind had simply snapped under the weight of that unending darkness, hunger, pain. Sometimes she thought that the last hundred and forty-two years were all just a bad dream, and that she would one day awaken in the arms of her lover once more, whole and beautiful and so very alive. Of course, she knew that this would never happen, but in her lowest moments she wondered. She dreamed.

This right here, tied to a chair and being starved by a band of idiotic children, this did not classify as one of her lowest moments. Yes, it was uncomfortable and a tiny bit humiliating, but there was no real danger. She had gone for _far_ longer than this without blood. It wouldn't be fun, but she would survive it. It didn't hurt that she knew she could easily break her bonds if she had to. She had thought up thirty-six different ways to escape by now, almost all of them without using her vampiric abilities, and fourteen involving no violence whatsoever. She was actually quite sure that she would be able to talk Laura into releasing her, if she was so inclined.

She wasn't, however.

She didn't see a point in freeing herself. If Laura and the others wanted her here, she would stay. Not out of some disgusting desire to please them, no; she just couldn't find the energy to break out.

It had been a hundred and forty two years since Elle had fled from her. She had called her 'monster', pretty face contorted in disgust and true hatred in her eyes. Carmilla didn't blame her, of course. Elle had been manipulated by Mother, and she was a monster besides. She fed off the blood of humanity. She had spent centuries luring young, innocent girls to a doom that was unimaginable in its horror. How could she not be a monster?

The thing that had hurt her most, though, was how Elle had led Mother right to her. There had been righteousness in her eyes, the righteousness that comes only from knowing that she was bringing suffering but that that suffering was justified. She had known what Carmilla was to endure, and she had reveled in it.

Grudgingly, Carmilla admitted that she had no idea if Elle had known the specifics of her punishment. There had really been no opportune moment to ask before Mother had sealed her away and dragged Elle away, and the girl was long dead now. It mattered not. What mattered was that Carmilla had spent seventy years in the dark, heartbroken and terrified and going mad with loneliness and hunger and pain and fear. By the time she was freed she was three-quarters mad and filled with a crazed anger at the world.

Time had tempered that anger, whittled it from the unchecked fury she had emerged with into a dull bitterness at the world in general. She had sealed herself off, spending her eternities watching the stars and plotting small ways to foil Mother. It brought her more joy than it probably should have to see Mother's face twist in fury. She took a special pleasure in finding ways to pin the blame for the failures on her new sibling. The boy was a sycophantic imbecile, fawning at Mother's feet and then slaughtering indiscriminately when she was gone. He had no style, no elegance. It was disgraceful.

When Carmilla had returned to Silas for the latest cycle of their game she had expected nothing unusual. Meet girl, warn girl, watch Mother explode in fury. She had not expected Laura.

The girl had wormed her way into Carmilla's heart with a frightening ease. The vampire had doubted that the smaller girl even knew how much she truly cared. She had tried to stay aloof, but soon found herself going out of her way to protect the journalism major and make her life easier in small ways. She had found herself falling hard, and then came the party

Carmilla had been so happy. She had thought that maybe, just maybe, this would be the chance she would have to be happy. Three hundred and thirty four years was a long time to be alone, and Carmilla had spent more of it in absolute solitude than she would have liked. So she dressed herself up, dug up a bottle of her favorite champagne, and kept Laura from going to the Zeta party where her brother was snatching girls.

They had talked, and she had reminisced, and just as she had begun to hope, Laura had shoved a knife into her heart. The jolly ginger giant had stormed in, her brother had followed, and though Carmilla could have easily subdued them all, she had caught a glimpse of Laura's eyes.

It had been like seeing Elle resurrected. The same righteous fury, the same hatred and disgust and blame and guiltlessness. Laura had tricked her, and Carmilla felt all the fight drain from her. Her second chance had turned out exactly the same as the first. That had to mean something, didn't it? Was she truly so awful that she was doomed to spend her long centuries hated and alone?

She smiled bitterly. Perhaps she was. Perhaps this was the universe's way of sending a message. Perhaps she should just give up now, give up her long reign of 'terror and flirting' as Laura phrased it. Obviously no one would mourn. Mother might be annoyed at the inconvenience, but that was it. Certainly Laura would rejoice. She would be free to be with her Huntress, no evil vampire roommate to occupy her time.

"What's up?" Laura's voice startled her out of her thoughts. The vampire had almost forgotten that the girl was still in the room.

She chuckled lowly, no humor in her voice. "Oh, nothing, cupcake. Just the crippling irony of history repeating itself."

Yes, she decided. After this debacle ended, she had a date with a bottle of bourbon and the Summer Society. _Someone_ should derive some happiness from her existence, even if it came only from ending it.


End file.
